Happily Ever After
by makishef
Summary: "This isn't a fairy tale." Mentions of non-con. Draco/Harry slash. Narration with stream-of-consciousness scattered throughout. Feedback graciously accepted.


Title: Happily Ever After  
Author: Makishef (makishef@aol.com)  
Pairing(s): Draco/Harry  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: Hers. Not mine. Don't sue.  
Summary: "This isn't a fairy tale." Short narration with little spurts of stream-of-consciousness throughout. Feedback graciously accepted.  
Notes: Thank you, Cai, for beta-ing this for me.  
Archive(s): Just ask.  


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It was (_aching, needing, thrusting, hot hot white hot_) rape at its worst, Draco concluded. It wasn't that he took Potter (_green and black on tan and the dirty yellowed gray of old bruises_) against his will – oh, not at all – and that was the beauty (_black and blue and smeared red_) of it. Harry Potter wanted (_need, greed, yearning, burning_) nothing more than to be loved (_love? this isn't a fairy tale_) for something other than his ridiculous scar. He wanted someone (_there is no 'happily ever after' in the real world_) who would touch (_oh, fuck, yes, god, more_) him and hold him close (_closer, closer, need you inside_), even if it was his arch rival (_obsess much?_). 

No, it wouldn't seem like rape (_cut, scratch, bite, oh, you're so tight_) at all. Not from the way the other boy (_oh you're heaven_) had screamed (_beg me for it_) his pleasure, screamed Draco's (_could fuck you forever_) name – his _given_ name, not just "Malfoy" – when he came (_blinding, deafening, rushing, falling_). And he did _that_ three times that night. 

Potter had wanted it (_begged, pleaded, wheedled, whined_), _craved_ it, simply because he was so starved (_hungry, hungry, touch me, kiss me, suck me, fuck me, do it all right_ now) for affection, starved for contact (_yes, yes, right there_). It could have been anyone (_no, no, only you, promise_), really, who finally noticed it. What mattered was that it was Draco (_manipulative, lying, hate you, love you_). 

The seduction (_fingertips, lips, so soft, so soft_) had been the crux. A note (_want you_) slipped into his Potions book with directions (_meet me at midnight_) to Hogwarts' old guest chambers, left unsigned, one that made enough promises (_want you, _need_ you, give you anything, anything you want_) to pique _any_one's curiosity (_show me?_) had done the trick. When Potter had seen it was Draco (_ohh, please, please, _please_, right there_), he was startled and dug in his heels (_no, that hurts, stop, stop_), but that hadn't helped him in the end (_god, god, fuck, _yessss_, more_). 

Draco had convinced Potter (_what happens now?_) that only _he_ could give him what he was looking for, making grand allusions to famous romances (_think of it!_), hinting that all his supposed hatred was his own form of denial (_no, no, stop, it hurts, please, stop_), assuring him that he would make all his former wickedness up to him (_shh, it will feel good very, very soon_), apologize to Potter's equally foolish friends. And Potter had finally been convinced, had finally caved, making the sort of foolish vows (_now press your lips tighter and _suck_, boy_) that teenagers make and never keep (_tossed aside like a broken toy_). 

Finally, when they were both (_slippery, sweaty, limbs tangled_) exhausted, Potter had wrapped his arms around Draco, happily snuggling (_no, no, harder, want you to _fuck_ me_) into his cool body. He had said things then, tender things, whispered secrets against Draco's (_god, you're beautiful, as he stroked his cheek_) pale, pale skin. It had felt smothering (_tight, hot, hot, tight_), suffocating. When Draco got up (_tired, aching, straining_), Harry had asked him when (_never_) they could see each other again. 

Draco had left him there, tears streaking down his flushed face (_don't leave me here, not like this_), eyes full of cold fury (_you're a bastard_) as realization finally dawned on him that perhaps the Slytherin (_greedy, cunning, cold_) had been lying about it all (_hate you, hate you, please come back_). 

He smiled now, a cruel (_you're heartless_) thing that bared glinting teeth, fangs (_biting, tearing, oh, your blood tastes sweet_) in the moonlight. He had claimed (_teeth and nails and oh, such pretty bruises_) Potter as his own, made him feel like he was more than just that blasted scar, and then he had flung him away (_held close, intertwined, wrapped inside his heat_) like so much garbage. He had made Potter love him – or at least Potter had believed himself to be in love – and then shattered (_felt him ripping apart as he shoved inside_) his poor, warm little heart. Yes, it was rape (_this isn't a fairy tale_) at its worst. 

_There is no 'happily ever after' in the real world._


End file.
